Hot mess

I have a farmer's tan. I usually have one this time of year. Okay, maybe not while I was living in Juneau. But I spend a lot of time outdoors, and before I know it, my arms (and legs) reach a point of no return, a color that will never be achieved by the rest of my pasty-white body no matter how much sun it receives for the remainder of the summer.

Since moving to Boise, I've been running in the mornings, hitting the trails no later than 9:00 a.m. in order to beat the heat. Well, I was out late last night (first date, whoop) and couldn't muster the energy required to get my ass in gear so early in the morn. I didn't run yesterday, so I definitely still wanted to get outside, even if it meant in the middle of a hot, sunny, dry afternoon.

Normally, I run with a shirt on, mostly to save the masses from the glare created from the sun reflecting off my pale skin. (I often joke that people need those special eclipse-watching glasses to view my chest in broad daylight.) And, of course, there's the fact that my tan arms/white chest combo would be visible for the entire world to see. You know how people talk.

Today, I didn't care. Due to the heat, however, there was hardly a soul on the trails. Me and my skinny, tropical arms had the place to ourselves. It was a hard, sweaty run, but well worth it (as always). But I woke up from my afternoon nap (not to be confused with my morning nap) with a burning sensation underneath my shirt. Oh yes, a lovely burn on my shoulders and upper back.

But the greatest part is that the rest of my torso is still halibut white. So, I'm now a real looker, what with the tan arms, pink upper body, and white everything else. At least the skin from my popped blister has almost fully fused back onto my heel. Otherwise, my self-image would have taken a real hit.